“Do you remember the child, Sheba? The one who started it all?”
Unable to speak, Crystal nodded.
“Well, she’s back online and this time, she’s gone totally viral. See for yourself.”
The iPad displayed a simple water-themed web site with a large block of text. It read:
Share this post far and wide!
My name is Sheba. I am 9 years old and I have an important story to tell you. Not long ago I was obsessed with saving for an Xbox. When I was within just $10 of my goal the most extraordinary thing happened to me and it is something so special, I need to share it with the world. I met someone, someone amazing who changed my life.
It turns out that there are far more important things in this world than Xboxes. There are rivers and waterways everywhere that need our help, so I took my entire Xbox savings, and with my BFF Meg, started an organization: New Aquatic Ideas And Directions.
We aim to reduce the effects of global warming, stop rivers from being dammed and diverted, and clean our precious waterways and we hope you will help us.
Support NAIAD today!
Naiad tears originate deep beneath the Earth. They are deceptively small for the emotion- al torrent they carry, and Crystal’s were flowing once again.
The Twenty-Seventh Try
Gabriel63 jerked involuntarily at the resounding wet crack. Nuts. He knew the sound all too well
– toddler skull smashing into concrete – a thud, a crunch, and a weird sucking noise, followed by the child’s piercing scream.
Technically Gabriel63 was not a he, but an it, genderless, like all angels, but long ago he had lived on Earth as a boy, so he still thought of him- self that way. But at the moment he wasn’t really thinking about that or even his injured ward be- cause at the moment dread and dread alone filled Gabriel63’s head. He failed again as a guardian and he knew he was up the proverbial creek – this sealed his spot on heavenly bowling league for sure. Blood poured out of little Billy’s head, puddling on the sidewalk. The kid wailed like the ambulance siren that would undoubtedly be arriving any minute, but Billy’d be okay. Gabriel63 had botched guarding enough times to know that for sure, but he, Gabriel63, on the other hand, was coming up gutter balls.
Moroni appeared with Gabriel63’s replacement and spirited Gabriel63 away before the first responders got there.
Even with its arms crossed, its head shaking side to side, and its mouth in a quiet frown, Moroni looked benevolent. Moroni had always looked out for Gabriel63, taking him under its wing soon after the boy died tragically young, succumbing to mountain fever on a dangerous cross-country trek. Moroni had a big soft spot for Mormons.
Moroni had patiently mentored Gabriel63 through a long series of divine posts—choir, re- cord keeping, messenger, harpist, scribe, and most recently guardian, but try as he might, Gabriel63 failed every time. Management would never let an angel with Gabriel63’s track record near any of the more serious duties like destruction, security, transporting souls, or answering prayers. There was only one place left for Gabriel63 in the heaven- ly order and it was down, down as low as an angel could go, to the bowling team. Blessed Thunder Bowling was the absolute last stop for Seraphim, Cherubim, and Dominion washouts.
Billy had been Gabriel63’s final, final chance to get it right. He wouldn’t fight it. Moroni had literally done everything under heaven and Earth to help him. Gabriel63’s head hung so low, his chin brushed his chest.
Gentle as ever, Moroni reached two fingers under Gabriel63’s strong jawline, eased his face up, and looked deep into his eyes. Wham – peace and grace flooded through Gabriel63 and he was grateful.
“Despair not my child, I found you a loop-hole.”
“But Billy was my eleventh infant ward. I thought that was the limit. Well, beyond the official limit, actually.”
Moroni shook its head. “Even after all these years I see the human in you. It gives me great joy, Gabriel. Your heart is so true.”
Gabriel63 wondered how this was possible, being the seed of two jack Mormons as he was, but Moroni should know, so Gabriel63 kept his counsel and counted his few blessings.
Maybe Moroni could read Gabriel63’s mind, or maybe it was just so old and wise and loving that it intuited Gabriel63’s thoughts, but either way Moroni cut right to the chase.
“You are not responsible for your parent’s poor decisions young one, but Father knows, you have suffered for them.” It was true. Gabriel’s pa Samuel gambled, drank, and generally ignored all the Prophets’ words of wisdom. The family’s wagon was devoid of hardtack or jerky, but so full of hooch, both it and Samuel sloshed all the way along the Pioneer Trail. Samuel’s death by Indian arrow came as a huge relief to everyone except Gabriel and his mother Eliza. Young and pretty, Eliza rejected her brother-in-law’s proposal as second wife, and found her way to a brothel somewhere around Wyoming where she lifted her skirt by way of audition and stuck around until cholera got her a few months later. All this left young Gabriel at the mercy of an angry uncle and his fellow Saints. A young boy from such wayward ancestry proved to be a burden on the whole traveling party. Little was spared for him, so it was only a matter of time before fever picked him off.
The Kingdoms of Glory are no place for a Latter-Day Saint without family, so when Gabriel died, Moroni personally intervened, invoking an ancient and rarely used canon. Innocents who die can become angels. At sixteen Gabriel63 was much older than the typical angel candidate. But certain that young Gabriel would make an excellent angel, Moroni vouched for him. To date, Gabriel63 had failed at twenty-six celestial posts.
The stoop crept back into Gabriel63’s shoulders and he blinked back tears as Moroni’s angel whammy began to wear off.
“I bring good tidings, sweet Gabriel, the loophole of which I mentioned, it is your chance to at last succeed.”
Gabriel63 looked up, daring to be hopeful. “One thing I must prepare you for is that it is
an adult.”
“An adult?” Gabriel63 gushed. “But you al- ways said we started with tots for a reason; all that cartilage and all. They bounce. They’re resilient.”
“Tarnish and discordance,” Gabriel63 swore, “I mean, how many babies have I bumbled? I can’t guard a full grown adult.”
“You can safeguard this one, Gabriel. She’s a loophole.”
“What does loophole mean?”
“Well, in this case, it means, she fell through the cracks, a glitch in the system. She’s from a wretchedly poor, underdeveloped part of Mexico and the registers down there are abysmal.”
Moroni mused, “I’ve always wondered whether the poverty and misery resulted in poor record keeping, or whether the poor record keeping created the misery and poverty in the first place. It’s sort of a chicken and egg thing, isn’t it? It’s the same the whole developing world over, so many souls going unaccounted for and caught in mortal coil.”
It snapped out of its reverie a bit, “Well, that really is Metatron’s department isn’t it? Anyway, your new ward is Valencia. She is absolutely lovely.
She’s twenty-two, recently converted to the Mormon Church, and married to Shawn, the missionary who converted her.”
“It was the conversion that flagged the error and brought to our attention that she had never been assigned a guardian angel. A lucky break for everyone, not least of all you.”
“It’s perfect. A young, newlywed who recently moved to a much safer and healthier environment. She has a husband, newfound prosperity, and a large loving and welcoming extended family by marriage. What could possibly go wrong?” Moroni shone with delight.
As they located the couple’s condo in an upscale neighborhood of downtown Salt Lake City, Gabriel63 felt dubious but hopeful.
“You’ve got this kid. I know it.” Moroni dissipated.
Time to check in on the new charge.
Gabriel63 morphed through the front door in order to get a look around. The furniture gave off a genuine leather smell, confirming the sleek
black living room set was no knockoff, but real top of the line goods. Every wall had been freshly painted a crisp white, and there were brightly colored accents everywhere—a red shelf, a green frame, a turquoise throw pillow, a yellow end table. The stark contrasts in the dark room made Ga- briel63 think of one huge Day of the Dead sugar skull, somber with small expressions of joy. A cozy dinette set for four held an overflowing vase of yellow roses. The mantle displayed a series of black and white wedding photos in ornate matching sliver frames. On the left, the bride and groom in traditional gown and tux taking the dance floor, on the right, a tiny flower girl and ring bearer holding hands, and in the center, an enormous photo of the groom’s entire extended family in their wedding day finery, surrounding the bride and groom.
Gabriel63 nodded in approval and leaned in for a closer look at his ward. Small frame, luxurious hair, soft smile, she was lovely, as Moroni had promised. Everything seemed right here. His confidence bolstered, he decided to phase through the closed bedroom door for a real peek.
And there Gabriel63 found his new client, lying in bed, alone, her upper body propped up by pillows.
She was a vision, but a vision holding a small pearlescent handled pistol to her head.
Without thinking, Gabriel63 materialized and lunged at her, knocking the gun from her hand. It flipped backward mid-shot and punched a petite hole clear through the cherrywood bed board.
Gabriel63 found himself awkwardly crouched above Valencia with two knees and one hand on the bed and one arm extended. Both in shock, they gawked at each other for a moment until Valencia involuntarily made the sign of the cross, and action deeply imprinted on her in her youth, and seemingly appropriate to the occasion. “Mormons don’t make the sign of the cross.” “How do you know I’m Mormon? Who are you?”
It sunk in like a falling anvil, that she could
see him, she could hear him, and he was headed to the heavenly lanes.
Gabriel63 untangled himself and floated to the side of the bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re my ward. I mean, I’m your guardian angel. And you were trying to shoot yourself. You were trying to shoot yourself, right?”
Valencia looked down, but nodded.
“It’s my job to protect you, although I didn’t do it right. I broke at least a dozen regulations, but I wasn’t ready for…what was happening.”
“I never thought I had a guardian angel. No offence, but I felt pretty unguarded during my childhood.”
“No, that’s okay. You didn’t have one then. There was a glitch in the system, and I wasn’t assigned to you until now. It has something to do with you being from a poor village.”
“That figures.”
Gabriel63 thought they were veering off topic. “Valencia, why do you have a gun? Where did you get it?”
Valencia shrugged. “It was an engagement gift from my mother-in-law. She says every American has the god given right to carry one and that every woman in a place like Salt Lake City needs one for her own protection.”
“Well, now that I’m here, why don’t we ease up on the gun for a while and try seeing if I can provide some protection?” As he spoke he picked up the pistol, set the safety, and placed it on the dresser. He spent a lot of time removing objects from harm’s way with his previous toddler clients, so these actions came quite naturally to him.
“Valencia, why are you trying to hurt yourself? You’re recently married. Recently baptized. Isn’t everything ahead of you? Aren’t you happy?”
Valencia started to cry. In little choking sobs she said, “Yes, I have been given much and I am grateful, but look around you. What’s missing?”
Gabriel63 scanned the room for a clue. When he saw a framed photo of Shawn on the dresser it occurred to him. “Your husband?”
Valencia nodded and wailed, a surprisingly loud sound coming out of her small body.
“Where is he?” “On…a…business…trip.”
“That’s not unusual, for a young professional is it? Do you think you might be over reacting a bit?”
“It’s his monthly,” Valencia made air quotes, “business trip…with his missionary companion.” She let out big, air-gulping sobs.
“I’m not following.”
“My husband is gay. Our marriage is a cover up.”
Gabriel had not known anything about homosexuality during his human life, but his ninth baby ward had had two dads, bringing him up to speed on what it meant to be gay.
“Are you sure?”
“They take this business trip every fourth week, and there are so many late nights,” more air quotes, “at the office. I don’t think I’d mind so much if they were more discrete, but I think everyone knows and it’s humiliating, humiliating and lonely.” The relief of finally having someone to unload on opened the floodgates wide and she kept talking.
“We’ve never had sex. Not once. Not even during our honeymoon. He planned it and every- day was chocked full of museums, and parties, and hikes, and binge eating. Every night we’d come back to the hotel exhausted and bloated. By the third night I knew it was intentional.”
“Maybe I deserve it. When Shawn knocked on our door and asked us if we wanted to learn about the Book of Mormon, we said yes and asked him and his companion in as any polite family would. I was living with my sickly father and very old abuela. Shawn never judged us for our cement block walls or dirt floor. That impressed me. My abuela died about a month after Shawn first came to us. His kind counsel through my grief was our courtship. He brought both my father and me into the church and it was my father’s dying wish that I marry Shawn and go with him to America to live a better life. I never really loved Shawn, I married him to honor my papa’s last request, but I thought there would be sex, and children, and affection, and time to fall in love. I guess I got what I deserved.”
“No, you didn’t. Everyone deserves love and it’s not too late for you. You just need a plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what’s important to you, besides marriage and children?”
“Shawn’s family has been pushing me to go to college. My abuela always said I was very artistic, so I’ve been toying with the idea of graphic design.”
Gabriel63 knew, thanks to the hipster parents, of his seventh, eighth, and tenth charges, what a hot field graphics were.
“That’s it. You should go to college for graphic design. Focus on something for you. Make new friends and connections and when you’re ready you should level with Shawn and tell him you need a real marriage. Shawn seems reasonable and his family seems loaded, I bet they could set up you with a decent alimony.” Gabriel63 knew all about alimony, thanks to ward family number five.
“Shawn’s family is well-off. His grandfather on his mother’s side is from a famous singing family. Shawn calls him a ‘lesser Osmond,’ and his dad’s side owns a local chain of very high-end jewelry stores. There’s lots of money.”
“Well, it’s decided then. You’ll go to school and study graphic design. When you’re ready, you’ll talk to Shawn and amicably move on with your life.”
“Wow, you’re really good at this.” “Good at what?’
“Guarding. I mean it’s like praying, sort of. I told you my problems, my wants, and my needs. And you answered me with solutions. You’re good at advice. You must have had a lot of practice, huh?” “Actually no. All my wards before you were babies. They don’t really have questions or prayers. Baby duty is mostly about prevention and removing choking hazards. Do you have any idea how many typical household items are the ideal size and
shape to lodge in an airway?”
Having grown up in a household filled with less than a hundred possessions, Valencia couldn’t really relate to this problem, but given his question, she assumed it was a lot.
“You’re a very good guardian angel. Thank you. I’d say you pretty much worked everything out for me, except there’s one more thing I really need.”
“What’s that?”
“No one here needs me. I thought I’d be supporting my husband and raising babies. I need to be needed.”
Gabriel63 guessed he wasn’t supposed to share this with a client, but he did anyway. “I need you. I really do.”
“How so?”
“You are my last and final chance to get guarding right. If I don’t, I’ll be assigned to the heavenly bowling league. Permanently.”
“Do you mean the game bowling? With the big balls?”
“During a heavy rainstorm, did your abuela ever tell you the thunder was the sound of angels bowling?”
Valencia smiled at the memory and nodded. “It’s true and it’s where angels who mess up
at everything else end up.”
“But don’t you like bowling? I mean, it’s fun, right?”
“I guess I like bowling as much as anyone, but I do not want it to become my sole, soul purpose in life.”
Valencia could understand that. “So, you re- ally do need me, don’t you?”
Gabriel63 nodded sincerely.
“You need me and I need you, so it’s settled
then.”
Valencia closed her eyes, brought her hands
together in front of her, and reverently bowed her head as a blurry memory from her catholic school days came back to her.
“Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love, commits me here, ever this day, be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.” At that moment, the heavenly choirs sang,
the archangels sighed in collective relief, the Blessed Thunder Bowlers raised their arms victoriously in X’s, sign of the strike, Moroni beamed and sparkled like a disco ball, and the almighty Father grinned.
Gabriel63 succeeded. It was an angel at last.
You All Leave
Lil pulled into the driveway and forced herself to smile. “Fake it ‘til you make it,” her life coach Bar- bara always said. Barbara intimidated the crap out of Lil, but Barbara, like most people, knew best or at least better than Lil, so Lil faked a smile.
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